


everything you had and what was left after that too

by IamJohnLocked4life



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Scene for HLV, Based on a Tumblr Post, Cunnilingus, Episode: s03e03 His Last Vow, F/F, Femslash, Gift Fic, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Janine is savvy and knows a lot more than she lets on, POV Janine, background Sherlock/Janine, it's not really PWP but it falls somewhere between the Mature and Explicit rating, this is femslash though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 20:12:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7815505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IamJohnLocked4life/pseuds/IamJohnLocked4life
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by <a href="http://katiewont.tumblr.com/post/88998528576/janine-getting-dragged-into-mollys-lab-when-shes">this tumblr post</a>:<br/>katiewont: <i>Janine getting dragged into Molly’s lab when she’s “dating” Sherlock and she thinks Molly is a total fox. When Molly and Janine chat, she’s not intimidated by Sherlock’s … everything, and Janine thinks she’s fantastic. When Molly leaves the room to use the restroom, Janine jokes with Sherlock about how Molly Hooper should have her own it’s not cheating if it’s Molly clause, but Sherlock just raises an amused eyebrow and shrugs. “Invite her home with us.”</i></p><p>I deviated slightly from the premise, and expanded it to slot into His Last Vow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	everything you had and what was left after that too

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GentleSpirit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GentleSpirit/gifts).



> This was originally conceived as a 221ABC fic, but it kept growing so I abandoned the format, though some of the initial structure remains. I have been working on-and-off on it since 221b con, where I met GentleSpirit and she enthusiastically shared with me her love of Janolly/Molline, and how she desperately wanted more fic for this ship. I hope this meets with your approval! *^_^* Welcome home!!!

 

Their dinner gets cut short by a text from Lestrade, but by now Janine’s used to the interruptions, and she can’t deny the thrill of excitement from the idea of tagging along to a crime scene. Two blocks from Bart’s Sherlock mentions that the body’s been moved, and so Janine finds herself in a morgue on a Friday night. Lovely.

“Oh! It’s you.” Molly smiles warmly, a faint blush tinging her cheeks. Sherlock’s already at the slab with his magnifying glass, peering at hair follicles or something. “Janine, right?” Molly extends her hand on automatic, belatedly noticing that it’s still sheathed in latex. She quickly snaps the glove off and sheepishly offers her hand again. Janine takes it, mildly amused.

“You remember me.”

“Kind of hard to forget.” Molly’s blush deepens. “I mean, Maid of Honour and all.”

“And you’re Molly Hooper. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“God, I’m a bit afraid of that, given the source.” Janine’s still holding Molly’s hand, smooth and smaller than her own. Delicate. She runs her thumb over the knuckles, just to see what she’ll do, and Molly’s fingers give a satisfying little twitch. Janine slowly releases her hand, dragging fingertips over that soft palm and delighting in her sharp intake of breath. Molly curls her hand back to her chest, apparently realises the awkward gesture midway, and aborts the move to self-consciously tuck an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “So, uh, what brings you by?”

“Well, you know Sherl, always poking around at gross dead things. No offence.”

“Oh, don’t worry, they don’t mind,” she deadpans, patting the sheet-covered knee of the corpse beside her. Janine bursts out a laugh, earning a glare from Sherlock and a grin from Molly.

“He didn’t tell me you were funny! Would’ve come by sooner.”

“So, you’re… uh, helping him out on cases?”

Janine smirks. “Something like that. More like dragged along when they interrupt our dates.” Molly’s pretty brown eyes widen slightly. “But he’s also in the market for a new assistant, so I figured I’d give it a go.”

“Yeah, he took me for a test drive but it didn’t work out.”

“ _Did_ he now?” She can see Molly replay the words in her head.

“Oh no, not like that, the assistant part, we never did… that.” The blush is back, and it’s frankly adorable. Janine darts a glance at Sherlock, lost in his own little world of clues and deductions, completely absorbed with the victim’s left heel. She leans in conspiratorially.

“To be honest, neither have we. I’m not sure he goes in for that. At least, not with women.” Molly’s brow furrows as she looks between the two of them.

“But, I thought you said… I mean if he’s dating you…”

Janine shrugs. “Who knows what his deal is, but it’s usually not this hard for me to get past second base with a bloke.”

“I can imagine.” Molly’s gaze roves over her silk dress, lingering on the form-fitting curves with open admiration… and interest? One way to find out.

“I do, though.” Molly blinks, lost again. “With women.” Janine trails her fingers over the lapel of Molly’s lab coat, and is gratified to see Molly shiver. Definite interest.

Molly licks her lips. “I, uh… just have to pop off to the loo. Be right back.” She scurries out of the room, but not before looking back at Janine with a shy smile.

_Oh, this could be fun._

“Sherl?” No response. She sidles up beside him at the slab, where he’s running a glove-clad finger over the victim’s abdomen, palpitating gently. She nudges him with her hip, and he starts out of his reverie.

“Yes?” She ignores his cool tone and narrowed eyes.

“How do you feel about an open relationship?” His eyebrows pinch together. She hurries to correct. “Well, not open per se. But a clause. Allowing for certain… exceptions.” His face is still a mask of confused annoyance. “Molly.” She tilts her head towards the door in clarification. “If you want to get specific. How would you feel about inviting her back to our place for the night?”

“What for?”

“Sex, Sherlock. I’d like to get laid.”

She expects outrage, indignation, or cold refusal. Instead, he turns back to the corpse, his only response a nod of his head in easy agreement.

 

* * *

 

"Care for a drink?" Janine opens the fridge, ignoring the biohazards on the second shelf, and retrieves the bottle of prosecco she'd secreted away in the crisper.

"Yeah, that sounds… yeah." Molly leans against the counter, watching Janine tear the foil from the bottle and rummage for a corkscrew in the drawer. Janine felt her eyes on her all through the cab ride, unwavering from the moment she invited her back to Baker Street. Considering their other companion, and what she knows of Molly's feelings for him, it's quite flattering. Sherlock scarpered off to the bedroom as soon as they were through the door, which suits Janine just fine.

 _Pop!_ Molly flinches at the crack of the cork, then giggles. Janine flashes her a wolfish grin, and pours two very full flutes—well, lab beakers, but she washed them this morning so she's pretty sure they're okay. She holds up her Erlenmeyer flask and lightly taps it to Molly's.

"To new friends."

"And new adventures."

Janine raises an eyebrow at that. "Cheers."

“I’m off for the night.” They turn to see Sherlock in the doorway, bespoke suit traded in for a ratty hoodie and sweatpants, all the product frizzed out of his hair. “Case.” He grabs his keys from his coat. “Don’t expect me home until morning,” he calls up the stairs, and slams the front door.

Janine looks at Molly over the lip of her flask. “Just us ladies then.”

“Good.” Molly downs her beaker in one go, and sets the empty glassware in the sink. Janine quickly follows suit.

“Bedroom?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

They collapse on the bed in a frantic mess of lips and limbs, Molly’s hands in her hair as Janine pulls at her cardigan. She manages to push it off her shoulders, and Molly pulls back enough to yank it from her wrists and then she’s back, pressing Janine down into the bed. She never expected Molly to be so aggressive, but then she’s been full of surprises tonight. Molly hovers over her, eyes dark and wide, breath coming in quiet little huffs, then lowers her mouth to meet Janine’s. Her lips are soft, so incredibly impossibly soft, and her breasts are pressing down against her chest, and Janine thinks, _oh I’ve missed this_. Then Molly’s mouth opens, wet and hot and perfect, and Janine melts back into the bed. Delicate fingers circle her wrists, firm but not threatening, and she presses up into the touch, enjoying the slight give followed by renewed restraint.

“Like that, do you?” Molly pants in her ear. Janine licks her throat in reply, and Molly laughs and scrunches up her shoulder to wipe away the wet stripe. “I bet it takes a lot to tame you.”

Janine catches Molly’s bottom lip between her teeth and gives a gentle tug. “You think you’re up to it, Miss Hooper?”

“I do love a good challenge.” She strokes her hands down Janine’s body, skimming over breasts and hips, slips them under her hem, glides them up her bare thighs. “And that’s _Doctor_ Hooper. I didn’t spend five years in medical school to be anyone’s Miss.” Her thumbs trace along the crease of her thighs, following her panty line to hipbones and back down. Janine’s legs tremble. She can feel the blood rushing to her groin, already throbbing with urgency.

“Did you—ah!—learn much female anatomy—mmh—at university?” Molly’s close-trimmed nails are teasing over her mons and stroking her labia through the thin layer of silk.

“Loads. Care for a demonstration?”

Janine wriggles out of her knickers so fast that Molly stifles a giggle.

“Go ahead, Doctor Hooper, I’m all yours.” The heat blazes in Molly’s eyes at that, and she lowers her head to Janine’s parted thighs.

Janine feels hot breath on her clit, and she twists her head on the pillow, catching a whiff of musky male scent. Somewhere on the other side of town, the owner of this bed is finding his release in the point of a needle. She should mind, should care, but at the moment, all her thoughts are here, in this room, with the woman between her legs. Molly’s sweet tongue laps at her clit, and Janine dissolves in bliss.

 

* * *

 

Warm sunlight filters in through the curtains, limning Molly in gold. The soft light lends her serene face an angelic countenance, the Virgin Mary in peaceful repose. Flashes of sinful eyes and wanton moans echo in her memory, reminding Janine that she’s anything but. How could she have known that such a passionate—and oh god, at times downright _filthy_ —creature lay beneath that innocent surface? Janine sends a silent prayer of gratitude to the ‘Incompetent Fools at the Met’ who moved that corpse to the morgue last night.

Molly sniffs a little in her sleep, nose scrunching up adorably, and Janine can’t resist reaching out to skate a finger down the gentle slope of her cheek. Sun-tipped lashes flutter, blink open.

“Mornin’ beautiful.” A sleepy smile spreads across Molly’s face at that. Her eyes focus on Janine, and the smile grows.

“Good morning.” The atmosphere is as thick and hazy as their sleep-muddled brains. The glow from their previous night’s activities hovers around them like the motes of dust dancing through the air, sun-drenched slow but alive, and thrumming with potential. Half-lidded gaze still locked on Janine, Molly turns her head slightly into Janine’s touch, lips brushing over her thumb. Janine’s heart picks up pace. She traces the pad of her thumb around the curves of Molly’s lips, which part for the pink tip of a wet tongue to peek out and lap at the whorls. Janine sighs, and Molly nips at her finger, that wicked grin making a reappearance. Janine can’t help herself, she dives in to capture that mouth, hand threading back into Molly’s silky smooth hair. The kiss is playful, slow and teasing, belying the heat building beneath.  

Molly is panting into her mouth and starting to make those delicious little noises when the slam of a door makes them both jump and freeze. Muffled shouts seep into their cosy cocoon from the adjoining rooms, bursting the intimate moment like a soap bubble, and Janine groans in frustration. Like so much in her life, it was ephemeral, and too beautiful to last. Just as she’s starting to get maudlin, Molly—clever Molly—shatters her thoughts by licking at her lips. Janine falls back into the bliss of that exquisite mouth. She’s only dimly aware of the voices beyond the door, even as one grows louder as if approaching. The tinny rattle of the doorknob stills them again, lips suspended mid-caress. Janine holds her breath as the knob turns. Her heart beats loud in her ears— one — two — three —and then the doorknob revolves back to neutral and the voices recede. Janine releases a sigh of relief against Molly’s lips, their eyes meet, and Molly starts to giggle. It’s cute and infectious, and soon Janine is caught up in unsuppressable giggles too. Their noses brush and foreheads bump and eyes water with mirth, and everything is light and easy again.

When they finally have their breath back, Molly is looking at her, open and warm, and Janine feels like her heart is so full it could burst. Unfortunately, she can still hear the distant rumble of male voices, and resigns herself to a raincheck on lazy morning sex.

“I suppose it’s time to get up.”

Molly purses her lips in a faux pout, but lets Janine extricate herself from the tangle of bedclothes and limbs. “I don’t see why we have to stop just because _he’s_ home. He’s not exactly Mr. Considerate, you know.” She hesitates. “Sorry, I mean, I know you’re dating him, and I shouldn’t—I mean, I don’t want you to think—I’m not trying to break you up or anything. It’s good, him having someone here, keeping an eye on him. It’s just, he can be…”

“An arsehole?” Janine grins. “Yeah, I’ve noticed. Don’t worry about it, luv, I know what I’m in for, but he has his moments. And as much as I’d love to see the look on his face when he walks in on us, I’m pretty sure I heard his brother out there, and I really don’t want him to get an eyeful. He’s already got too many peepers out there for comfort.” She’s located and shimmied into her knickers, and is flipping through the wardrobe, aware of Molly’s eyes on her naked body. She snags a light blue dress shirt from a hanger and slings it on, enjoying the strain of the buttons as she fastens them. The pull of taut fabric over her bare breasts feels taboo. She turns to face Molly, sweeping her hands over her body with a flourish.

“Whaddya think?”

Molly licks her lips. “I think you should come back to bed.”

“Mmm, tempting. But I should at least get the lay of the land. If Sherl’s in a strop, I don’t want him ruining our fun mid-romp.” There’s another distant slam of a door. “Coffee?”

Molly stretches with a dramatic yawn that ends in a little squeal, sheets falling away to reveal her small pert breasts.

“Coffee would be lovely.”

“Join me in the kitchen. I’m pretty sure that was Myc making his dramatic exit.”

“But then I’d have to get dressed.” She leans back on her elbows, arching her back and putting those perfect breasts on more prominent display. Janine’s mouth waters.

“That _would_ be a shame.” Janine inclines her head toward the wardrobe. “Snag one of Sherl’s shirts. I’m sure they’d look incredible on you, and it drives him absolutely mental.” She gives Molly a conspiratorial wink. The door to the adjoining loo rattles in its frame, followed by the whoosh of the taps. “Oh good, he’s in the bath. We’ll have the kitchen to ourselves for a bit.”

Molly sighs, but starts hunting around the bed for her lost garments. “Right behind you.”

Janine blows her a kiss, opens the door, and nearly bumps into John Watson.

“Oh, John, hi.” She quickly closes the door behind her before he can get a glimpse inside, and pulls down at the hem of the shirt just barely grazing the tops of her thighs. Damn, can’t a girl catch a break? Not a visitor for weeks, not even a client, and now that she’s finally got laid it’s suddenly Charing Cross Station. Sure, this isn’t technically her flat, and she’s pretty certain Sherl hasn’t seen John since the wedding (and been sulking about it, despite his best efforts at pretence) but still, he could’ve given her a heads up that they’d have company. Well, more company than was currently in the bedroom.

“How are you?” Might as well play the hostess, even if she is in her knickers.

John is gaping at her, wide-eyed. “Janine?”

“Sorry, not dressed.” She quickly makes her way past him. No reason to be embarrassed; he’s the one intruding on her morning, after all. “Has everybody gone? I heard shouting.” Everybody except _you_ , of course.

“Yes, they’re gone.” John still looks a bit dumbstruck, tracking her movements around the kitchen. Ah, so Sherl didn’t tell his blogger about her yet. Interesting.

“Sounded like an argument. Was it Myc?”

“Mike?”

God, John is slow this morning. “Myc, yeah, his brother, Myc? They’re always fighting.”

“Mycroft.”

Janine laughs, as she always does at the stuffy, ridiculously posh name. “Do people actually call him that?”

“Yeah.”

Janine ignores the tetchy edge to his voice, and breezes on with purposeful nonchalance.

“Huh! Oh, could you be a luv and put some coffee on?” Coffee, that’s why she came out here in the first place. Just get the coffee and escape back to the bedroom.

“Sure, right, yeah.”

“Thanks.” John’s still looking at her with that odd expression, something verging on territorial upset. Well, he hasn’t been by since the wedding, had he expected Sherlock to just be waiting around for his call? Come to think of it, she hadn’t spoken to Mary since the wedding either. They’d been straight off to their honeymoon, and then she’d taken up with Sherl and it hadn’t occurred to her to check in on how they were settling in. Ah well, better late than never. “So, how’s Mary? How’s married life?”

“She’s fine, we’re… both fine.” Not exactly a glowing review of marital bliss. She really should give Mary a call. She realises John’s fruitlessly rummaging about for the coffee.

“Oh, it’s over there now.” She points to the right cupboard, and feels slender fingers wrap around her waist.

“I recall someone promising me coffee.” A hand snakes up her body to slip into the gap between two straining buttons just below her breasts. “Unless you have something sweeter to offer me for breakfast.” Fingertips brush her stomach, sending a hot shiver across her skin. She quickly captures the roving hand with her own to still its progress.

“Uh, we’ve got company.” Molly stops nuzzling the back of her neck to peer over her shoulder, and lets out a little gasp. “John here’s making us some coffee.” Molly shrinks back behind her, and Janine can practically feel her blush emanating heat, the poor dear. Nothing for it now, might as well plow on ahead. She casually extracts Molly’s hand from her shirt and laces their fingers together, pulling Molly to her side. They can face the music together.

John, for his part, looks like he’s just seen the tooth fairy, the Easter bunny, and the second coming of Christ all meet up to do a jig across the kitchen table. His eyes are round dinner plates of shock and his mouth is a vacant portcullis left open and defenceless against the surprise attack, and it would all be quite funny if Molly weren’t squeezing her hand so tight that the knuckles pop. She strokes her thumb over Molly’s, soothing.

“C’mon, we’re all adults here,” she says cheerily. “I’m sure John had brekkie in his pants back when he lived here too, yeah? Nothin’ to be embarrassed about.” She cuts a glance to Molly to see how she’s holding up, and takes in the sight of her for the first time. She’s looks positively edible in Sherl’s aubergine button down, long enough to hide her knickers completely from sight, though Janine can picture the delicate floral pattern beneath. The dark maroon contrasts beautifully with her creamy white thighs and the porcelain skin at her throat, even as her cheeks flush with a deep crimson nearly to match. Delicious. She looks up at John through her lashes, bashful in a way that she definitely wasn’t last night. Janine feels a giddy rush of pride at being the only one in the flat to know that side of Molly Hooper.

“Erm, hi John.”

“M–Molly.” His voice cracks on the vowel, and he clears his throat. “What…” He trails off, unable to complete the thought. Molly giggles nervously, and John shakes himself. “Right, sorry. Uh, good morning.”

“Good morning.” They stare dumbly at each other, and Janine decides that’s more than enough of that.

“About that coffee, John?” He blinks, as if roused from a dream, and looks down at the bag of grounds in his hand.

“Yeah, of course. Sorry, bit of an odd morning.” He turns to fumble with the French press, and Molly relaxes her death grip on Janine’s hand.

 _Not how I envisioned the morning going either, mate._ “Oh, speaking of which, any idea of the time?”

“Um, just past eight, last I checked.” John resolutely continues with the task at hand, but his voice is strained.

“Damn, I'm going to be late.”

“Aw, d’you have to go in?” Molly bats puppy dog eyes her way, and Janine melts a bit. “Can't you bunk off with me?”

“Oh, is that the plan?”

“Yep! Left a note on my supervisor’s desk and turned off my mobile, so this morning I'm a free woman. After getting called in for so many late nights, I figured I'm owed a proper lie in.” She nudges Janine. “It’ll still be there this afternoon; _my_ work’s not going anywhere.” She laughs at her own joke, genuine this time, and the sound of it makes something warm bloom in Janine’s chest. She can't help but smile back.

John plonks two mugs on the counter with a bit more force than is polite. “So _that's_ why I couldn't get through to you this morning,” he grumbles under his breath. Molly wrinkles her brow.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Nothing. Just, was trying to call you earlier, went straight to voicemail, no response at Bart’s. But it all makes sense now.” His gaze has drifted to their entwined hands. He ruffles his fringe, heel of his hand scrubbing at his eyes. “Or as much sense as anything these days.”

“Why were you calling? Did something happen?” Molly’s kind face crumples with concern, and Janine wants to run her hands over her forehead and smooth the creases away. John’s eyes flick to the bathroom. Ah. So he found out about Sherl’s latest “case”. That explains the bloody row. Sure, she’s not thrilled with what he’s out doing on his late night jaunts, but she knew what kind of man he was when she started this thing, and everyone has their vices. They’ve barely known each other a month, and it doesn’t seem to affect his work or their relationship, so it’s not really her problem, not yet. They’re just having a bit of fun together, someone to share a snog with and occasionally cuddle up on the couch. It’s not like she’s looking to marry the bloke or anything. Doctor Watson, on the other hand, yeah, she can see how he wouldn’t take the news of Sherlock’s extracurriculars so well. Wonder if he’s considered the connexion between his blessed union with Mary and Sherl’s shiny new habit. Well, new _ish_.

John takes a deep breath, and scans Molly’s worried face. He rubs his thumb at his temple, then shakes his head, curt and decisive.

“Er, no, nothing. Just, ah, something for a case. We found a lab tech to help out, wasn’t a problem.”

Janine breathes a soft sigh of relief as Molly uncoils, tension dissipating back into the generalised discomfort of the situation. Thank god John didn’t unburden that tidbit of information right now. He’d be keeping a closer eye on Sherlock now that he knew the state of things back at Baker Street, no reason to completely ruin what had started out as really a lovely morning. And the sooner they can get back to it, the better. With a quick, reassuring squeeze, she drops Molly’s hand and walks around the table to where the electric kettle is merrily burbling away. _If you want something done…_ she pours a slow, steady stream of hot water into the press, and stirs it absently with a spoon.

“Oh good, I’m glad it worked out,” Molly’s saying. “Must’ve been Raj, he usually covers weekend morning shifts. I hope it wasn’t too much of a bother.”

“No, it was fine.” John sounds anything but. “Good for you to get some time away, I expect.” Janine fits the plunger to the rim of the carafe and grabs the sugar bowl from the counter, only half-listening to the forced pleasantries.

“It is.”

“So…” John clears his throat. “I take it things didn’t work out with what’s-his-face? Damnit… Tim?”

“Tom,” Molly corrects, and Janine glances up from the slow descent of the press to check for signs of discomfort, but finds none. Right, the bloke she brought to the wedding. Janine had forgot about him.

“Sorry, Christ, don’t know what’s wrong with me this morning. Though to be fair, I’m shite at names on the best of days.”

“It’s fine, he wasn’t all that memorable. S’pose that was part of the problem. I mean, he was nice and all, but there wasn’t that spark, you know? I’m just glad I realised it before we got any further along on wedding planning.”

“Right…” John’s eyes go slightly vacant for a moment, before refocussing on Molly. “Er, right. Well, sorry anyway.”

Molly shrugs. “I’ve moved on.”

John opens his mouth to comment, thinks better of it, and plasters on a grimace of a smile instead. It’s a bit creepy, and reminds Janine of the look Sherlock sometimes gives her when she interrupts his home experiments.

_Moving right along._

“Ta for the coffee, John.” She sweeps up both steaming hot mugs, passing one to Molly with a lingering brush of fingertips. “How do you take it?”

“Just a splash of milk, thanks.”

“Mmmm, no sugar? I suppose you're sweet enough already.” She kisses the tip of Molly's nose just to see that gorgeous blush reappear, and it's so enticing she has to follow up with a more thorough press of lips on lips. The effect is somewhat dampened from the seething _something_ emanating from across the kitchen. Honestly, like he's never seen two grown women snog in their knickers before. Pretty sure his browser history would confirm otherwise.

Reluctantly, she pulls back, leaving Molly with pursed lips, closed eyes, and red cheeks, still lost in the kiss. Pity they had to stop. She turns back to the source of her discomfort in the guise of grabbing the milk, and is surprised to see less arousal in John's face than she expected and more… anger? The expression is fleeting, quickly smoothed over by a placid smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. She quickly splashes milk in both their mugs, well past ready to retreat to the bedroom.

“Where’s Sherl?” she asks, knowing full well the answer but grasping at any excuse to hasten their departure. John’s eyes widen as he mouths _Sherl_ , then clears his throat again with a shake of his head.

“He's just having a bath. I’m sure he’ll be out in a minute.”

“Oh, like he ever is!” Janine grins at Molly. “I’ll just check in on him, yeah? And then we can see about that lie in.” Molly nods, mischief sparking in her eyes. She follows Janine out of the room, calling back a distracted farewell to John before disappearing into the bedroom, while Janine slips into the loo.

“Morning!” she chirrups, perversely satisfied when her trill elicits a wince. Sherlock is sitting in the nearly filled tub, water rushing noisily around him, steam thick in the air. He looks like a bedraggled stray, grotty hair gone limp and stuck to his forehead with the humidity, eyes bloodshot and face caked with a layer of grime. He briefly frowns at her before schooling his features into a look of pleased surprise. The overall effect makes her giggle.

“Morning.”

“Well, look at what the cat drug in. Rough night?”

He grunts with a half-shrug and reaches for the washcloth. “I see you enjoyed yourself.”

Janine grins, unable to keep the glow from her face. “Yeah, it was brilliant. Cheers for that.” She takes a swig of her coffee. At his raised brow, she adds, “Y’know, being open to it, bringing Molly back. Though you didn’t have to clear out.” He rolls his eyes.

“I had a case.”

She nods solemnly. “Right.” She turns to the vanity, watching his reflection in the mirror. He really looks like crap. She grabs the eye drops from the cupboard. “You may want to use these before you face Doctor Watson again.” She tosses the dropper to Sherlock, who snags it from the air with graceful ease. Not still high then. That’s good.

“What would I do without you?” His smile is eighty-five percent fake, but there’s still a slice of truth behind those words that makes her stomach flutter. He may profess to be an antisocial arsehole to the general public, but he needs companionship too. How lonely would he have been these past few weeks, had they not started up with… well, whatever this is. It’s certainly more complicated now they’ve added someone else to the mix.

“You _are_ okay with it, the Molly thing? That’s not what made you…” She lets the words hover, unfinished, not sure if she’s meant to pretend she doesn’t know. He snorts dismissively.

“I told you it’s fine. I hate repeating myself.”

“So we’re still good.”

He smiles at her again, small and real, dimples faintly creasing his cheeks. “Yes.”

“Good,” she grins, and plants a quick kiss on his chapped lips. “Because I’ve got a favour to ask.”

“Oh?”

“Give us an extra hour in the bed? We’d like another go before we have to get dressed and face the world.”

He scrunches up his nose in vague distaste, but nods his assent. “Fine, just bring me a set of clothes first. I’d rather not have to see you and Miss Hooper engaged in coitus, if at all possible.” _That’s Doctor Hooper._ Janine chuckles and shakes her head.

“You are not a typical boyfriend, Sherlock Holmes.”

He frowns. “Problem?”

“No, you’re perfect.” She kisses him again, soft and slow, then pulls a face. “One more favour, luv: brush your teeth, yeah? You taste like an old jockstrap left out in the sun.”

Sherlock grimaces, a faint blush rising to his cheeks. “Have a lot of experience tasting men’s under garments?”

She winks back over her shoulder as she heads to the bedroom. “Oh yeah, loads.” She shuts the door on his deep rumble of laughter.

The sight that greets her sucks the air from her lungs. Molly, gorgeous thing that she is, has draped herself across the bed, legs spread wide and unashamed, putting those lovely floral knickers on display. Her right arm has slipped under the front of the dress shirt, hand completely hidden from view, but the outline of her restless fingers is clear beneath the thin cotton of her knickers, making the flowers writhe and sway as if stirred by a summer’s breeze. Janine can just see a darker patch of wet fabric forming where the duvet meets that sweet centre strip. She leans back against the door, head rapping lightly against frosted glass.

“Christ, you’ll give a poor girl a heart attack carrying on like that.”

Molly’s eyes flutter open, and she grins wickedly at Janine. “I wanted to get a head start on things, since we’ve got a deadline.”

Janine carefully sets her mug on the dresser before she spills coffee everywhere. “About that. I think I might be able to buy us some more time.” She forces herself to look away from the temptation sprawled across the bed and beelines to the wardrobe with three purposeful strides.

“Oooh, really? Going to join my crusade against morning shifts?”

“Going to try, at least. First things first.” She pulls an immaculate black suit and crisp white shirt from the wardrobe, gathering socks and shoes and pants on her way back to the bathroom. She pops her head in, pleased to see Sherlock has scrubbed the grime from his face and is frothing up his hair with a healthy dose of shampoo.

“Where d’you want these?” He gestures with an elbow to the toilet, fingers still lathering his curls. She tries to drape the pressed garments over the back as smoothly as possible and deposits the little pile of accessories on the seat. “We’ll try to keep it down, but no promises!” She’s out again before he can come up with a parting shot.

Molly’s flipped over to her stomach, hands propped up under her chin, but her hips are still subtly undulating against the bed.

“Ready to come back to bed?” She emphasises the word _come_ with an extra snap of her hips. Fucking hell.

“Just one more sec.”

Molly groans and rolls over, possibly to start working herself up again, but Janine resolutely ignores the glorious debauchery taking place _right fucking there_ and zeroes in on the search for her mobile in the mess of her purse. After a moment of fumbling that takes a bloody age, her fingers close around the thin slip of metal and glass that dictates her days. She keeps her back to Molly, hands cupped around the screen, just in case. No knowing what kind of helpful buggies Myc may have lurking about. Swipe, unlock, text:

_Need extra time to clear out, push your 9 back to 10? Can swap times with your 10:30._

The response is almost immediate.

_You have until 9:30._

She can work with that. She sends off a quick text to the 10:30 informing the unfortunate MP of the imminent arrival of her employer, updates the synced schedule, and forwards the confirmation. Another text alert:

_This will not become a habit, Ms Hawkins._

The implicit threat is crystal clear.

_No sir. Thank you._

With a sigh, she powers off the screen, tosses the phone in her purse, and flops back on the bed.

“All right?”

She turns her head to see liquid brown eyes gazing back, soft and concerned.

“Yeah, luv, I bought us some time. Not as much as I’d like, but we can make it work.” Molly breaks into a smile, and Janine feels the weight of the day lifting, buoyed by the upward bow of her lips. Janine traces her dimples with a fingertip, smooths her palm over the curve of her cheek. Yes, they could make this work, even if only for the morning. She curls her hand around Molly’s nape to pull her in for a kiss. “Now then, where were we?”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from [The Dog Days Are Over](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/florencethemachine/dogdaysareover.html) by Florence + The Machine. This song kept coming back to me over the months that I was working on this, it just felt right for how Janine is hit out of the blue with these feelings for Molly, and not knowing how to make it work with everything else in her life. I pulled the title from the couplet "and I never wanted anything from you, except everything you had and what was left after that too" which could reference both how Molly leaves her feeling and how her job keeps taking and taking from her. The lyrics have a lot of darker undertones that could be relevant to her work life and her situation with Magnussen. I think there's a lot more to her background than we're told, and she knows much more than she lets on, as I hinted at in the end. I have more Janine theories and headcanons than I could ever hope to have time to write, but I will endeavour to do my best!
> 
> If you ever want to scream with me about Janine, chat theories, or just say hi, come find [me on tumblr](http://iamjohnlocked4life.tumblr.com/)!


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